


Storms

by Sneezysoul



Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: Angst, Branch Needs a Hug, Brief mention of Cloud Guy, Brief mention of Rosiepuff, Fluff, Gen, This can be seen as shipping if you want, minor character death - mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-28 04:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneezysoul/pseuds/Sneezysoul
Summary: “I…” Poppy begins, quietly, “I never took you for one to be scared of storms.”





	Storms

**Author's Note:**

> **Special thanks to my bestie, Cave ([TigerClawBlues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerclawblues/pseuds/tigerclawblues)),** for editing this for me and being an awesome motivator!
> 
> I just watched everything Trolls I could, and I have to say that It's really cute, my dudes. I'm hooked! :)
> 
> This was some mixed prompts from tumblr search and also someone's headcanon for Branch. It's been a while since I was on tumblr, so I forgot the names of their blogs haha. I just went with whatever I remembered.

He was scared of storms.

A little rain he could handle, but the booms and flashing of a storm shook him down to his very core. It reminded him of the drums of trollstice, of the Bergen guard’s torches. It brought up horrible memories of running deeper and deeper into the troll tree just to get a safe distance away.

It made him remember his grandma.

He’ll never forgive himself for her death. Going so far out on the tree during such an event was her idea, but it was his loud mouth that ruined everything. 

They’d been hidden on a little branch, covered up by leaves and hidden high enough that they’d thought they were safe.

In the end, at the sound of drums and cheers, it was a horrible idea.

He whimpers, curling farther into himself, holding his knees closely and burying his head in his arms. 

Usually he was okay with storms to the point where he can safely make it to the deepest parts of his home to sleep. He’d made an extra bedroom down there just for these kind of things.

Usually he was fine sucking it up and shoving earplugs in. He was usually fine burying himself as far into the covers as he could.

But tonight it was terrible; He shook with each and every growl of thunder, he felt the ground move each time. He didn’t see lightning, but that made no difference this night.

He’d been unable to sleep this entire time, holding himself and sniffing back tears.

In these moments, he wasn't so sure who he was trying to be strong for . It was just him here, after all. He shouldn’t have to worry about crying or smiling or whatever kind of emotions he ever wanted to do.

But maybe it was for the fear of certain people coming to his bunker.

It was improbable that Poppy would run to his bunker at such a time. She’d most likely stay with her father, curled up in her blankets and fast asleep. Maybe she’d have Smidge over, too.

She’d never come to see him during this.

And the cloud guy? Well…..Branch didn’t want to show his feelings in front of him. Especially when he’s frightened like this.

He’d never hear the end of it from the both of them.

Though, the small thought that he’d be wrapped up in someone’s arms during this storm….it made the loneliness stretch even farther..

And that only added to his anxiety.

He jumps at another crack of thunder far above him. He moves to cover his head with his hands and leans farther into the corner he’d made.

He would have been in the bed right now, but his frantic mind found that the floor beside his bed, nearest the corner and tucked right behind a wooden chair, was obviously the safest place.

He sniffles, rubbing at his eye. He was  _ not _ crying! No...not at all.

Okay, he was.

His feelings weren’t the best tonight. He felt like everything was pouring out onto the ground and he just didn’t have the energy to pick it up and bottle it again. Whenever he tried controlling his emotions tonight, it just felt like water slipping through his fingers.

He can in the morning. Surely this storm won’t last so long?

“Branch?”

He jumps, though this time for a far different reason. A few knocks at his second entrance, which was located just below his bunker door, startles him enough that when he stands, the clack of thunder following his ascent do nothing to keep him down.

Making his way through his bunker, making sure to wipe at his face and to get rid of most evidence of his poor mental state, he stops at the door.

Taking a deep breath, he pauses just as a flash of vertigo passes through him. He’d been sitting in such a way that the dizziness wasn’t surprising.

He works through it, though, releasing the same breath and flexing his face to distract himself from the unexpected guest and the storm beyond them. Just as he moves to make his usual bored expression, another knock has him yanking the door open just a bit too fast.

“Poppy?” 

“Hi Branch!” Poppy says sweetly, her movements a bit fast and awkward; was she nervous?

“What are you doing here?” He asks, ears lowering quickly at another crash of thunder, “and during a storm?”

“Oh!” She makes a small gesture with her hand, as if dismissing the storm above, “y’know me! Always wanna stop by to check in on you each day!”

That wasn’t a lie, as Poppy had in fact always greeted him at least once a day. Though, she’d already done so that morning.

At his unimpressed blink, she sighs, rubbing her arm, “Okay…I started a party today and we got rained on. I figure since your bunker was closer than my pod I could,” she looks past him, comically hopping on her toes with a hum, “stay the night?”

The rain seems to beat faster than his heart at that, making a racket against the bunker door above Poppy. She seemed to know he could never turn her away during such bad weather, because as he glances back to her she’s clasping her hands with a calm smile.

Letting out a huff, he jerks his head to his home and moves out of her way, “Fine. But once the storm is over you’re out, okay?”

With a noise of joy she rushes into there, and to his dismay she left a trail of water behind, “I call top bunk!” she all but screams.

“I don’t even  _ have  _ a bunk!” He replies, but he knows it barely registers with her as she is already poking around, too busy with herself.

Poppy had only been in the bunker once before, so it was no surprise she’d be so excited by it. She hadn’t had the proper chance to just see something as simple as his living quarters.

As he reaches into his small supply closet for a mop, he briefly wonders if she’d thought that all this time he’d been living in a cave of sorts. He mops it up quickly, pondering over the thought.

At first, when he’d begun making his home, he’d just had a simple nest of leaves and grass to sleep in. He can still remember how stiff his neck was every morning, and he swore he’d never go back to such a thing. He’ll take a normal bed, thank you very much!

“Wow,” Poppy says loud for him to hear, “I didn’t know you drank coffee. Can I have some?”

Blinking out of his thoughts, “No.” he replies curtly.

“Where’s the hot cocoa?”

Done with his mopping, he leans the mop against the side of the door, promising himself he’d put it back later. He jumps as a crack of thunder sounds again, this time drawing out more than just a few seconds.

Lucky him, when he turns around, Poppy is looking through his cabinets, and hadn’t seen his slip. He can breathe easy just knowing she was too busy to notice him right now.

“Don’t have any,” he answers, walking his way to stand next to her, “I have lemonade, but it’s too late for that junk.”

Poppy pauses her search, making a face. “No hot cocoa?” she asks, before stepping away from the cabinet she’d been rifling through, “what about sweet apple cider?”

Branch shrugs a shoulder. “That’s deep in my bunker. It’d take me forever to find some.”

Poppy sighs. “Darn...don't you have any good stuff to drink?”

“Uhhhh,” Branch says, “water?”

She makes a face, “blegh.”

He rolls his eyes, picking up a can of coffee grounds she’d taken out of the cabinet to put it back. Closing it quietly, he begins to make his way down the hall.

He wasn’t about to show her the rest of his bunker just to get to his second bedroom below, so that meant he was going to have to dig out some extra blankets and make himself a makeshift bed somewhere.

She was the princess, so he wasn’t sure if king Peppy would like it if he heard that his daughter slept on the ground somewhere. Also, the thought made him feel guilty for even thinking it.

He tries to hold his breath every time the rumbling from above had his ears perked. He would probably stay in his room long enough for Poppy to sleep before making his way down. She knew how to get out of here, so he wasn’t too concerned about that.

“Hey! Wait up!” Poppy says, jogging to walk beside him. For a minute she keeps her eyes on him, but as soon as they enter his bedroom she makes to spin on the tip of her toes, “Woah.”

“You have so much cool stuff!” she exclaims, walking over to look at the paintings he had on the wall; they weren’t anything really special, but he’d commissioned them in the case someone else actually came down here.

Paintings distracted trolls - and himself, back when he needed that distracting - from the dirt walls.

He should have lined the walls up with boards, but at the time he made his bunker he figured that the dirt and rock surrounding his home wouldn’t hurt anything. Back when he made this bunker, he didn’t expect to use it for more than survival.

“Er...thanks.” he says simply, opening up the door to his bedroom closet and looking over his options: fluffy blanket, or fleece?   
  
He slowly realizes he didn’t have any pillows up in this room. He’d have to toss some into his closet later on, but for now he felt like he’d just stay awake all night and the extra effort for a pillow would be a waste.

“So where will I be sleeping?” Poppy asks, taking a seat at the chair in the corner of the room, scooting it to face him.

Branch, in answer, pulls his blanket off the bed and replaces it with the overly fluffy one from his closet; something told him Poppy didn’t like fleece very much, as it was a pretty scratchy material if you weren’t accustomed to it.

He makes sure to fluff the pillows, and then gestures to the bed.

“Branch!” Poppy leaps from the chair, putting her hands on the bed and giving him a look, “I can’t just take your bed! It’s yours!”

“Well, I think tonight it can be yours.”

“I can’t! It’s your bed!” She pats at the bed with force. The bed, sadly, has very little give. 

“You said that already!” he says, tossing yet another fluffy blanket on the bed, turning his back to her to pick through the others in his closet, “and  _ you  _ can have it!”

“No!”

“Yes!”   
  
Poppy stands up straight, crossing her arms, a stubborn look about her, “No, Branch. I can’t just leave you without a bed!”

Branch, having grabbed all the blankets he’d need, turns around to plop them on the bed. As they bounce, he jerks as another boom of thunder sounds above them. Branch could have sworn he saw his bedroom lights flicker.

Poppy whistles low, looking up at the ceiling light, “that storm sure sounds angry!”

Branch doesn’t reply. He’s sure that, if he did reply in the moment, he would have surely sounded different from his usual self.

He did not like storms one bit.

“So…” Poppy trails off, and Branch turns his attention to her. She had a sly smile on her face, as if she’d come up with a good strategy to win a game, “why don’t we just both use the bed?”

“No.” He says, as if this argument was finished. He takes up his blankets, makes his way past Poppy and to the corner, plopping them all down.

“You’re just going to sleep on the floor?”

"That's the plan."

He hears her groan in frustration, he glances at her as he leans down to make his own little bed. She must have decided to go with it, as she walks back to the bed. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief to himself. He didn’t feel like fighting her about something like this; he’d slept on the ground plenty of times! He’s fine with just a few more hours of it!   
  
Before he can think further, and fluffy blanket is tossed over him. He lifts the edge up in time to see Poppy placing the pillows in the makeshift blanket bed.

“What?” He says.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor with you, then!” Poppy giggles at the look on his face; she seemed overly happy about this. Branch suspects she’ll try to hug him or have touchy-feely talks or something.

No way was he going to let that happen. 

If she’s sleeping in his makeshift bed, she’s going to have to listen to him!

“Okay,” he agrees, yanking the blanket off of his head, “I’ll let you sleep here - but!” he puts up a finger when she began to grin excitedly, pausing her, “No hugging, and no long talks, okay? I want to sleep.”

“Pht!” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically, “Lame! Who doesn’t love hugging and snuggle talks?”

“We’re  _ not  _ snuggling!”

“Whatever you say, Branch!”

He tosses her the fluffy blanket, laying down on the blankets, only to wince at how hard the ground was. Princess Poppy would probably regret this in the morning.

A twinge of guilt is what he feels as she plops down beside him with a happy hum. When she tosses half of her fluffy blanket over him, he doesn’t bother pushing it away. He was turned away from her, and he was surprised that she hadn’t used the opportunity to hug him or something.

Poppy sighs happily, and he can feel her shift the blankets as she gets as comfortable as the ground would allow. 

Suddenly, there’s a few clicks, and he turns to glance over his shoulder; she’d had a popup picture frame in her hair this entire time? How weird.

“Goodnight, Cooper,” she begins, and he rolls his eyes, turning back away from her, “Goodnight, Smidge, goodnight, Fuzzbert.”

His ears twitch at the sound of thunder, her words just barely distracting him from the storm outside.

She yawns, “Goodnight, Satin, goodnight chenille, goodnight, Biggie.”

Branch didn’t know how this girl could go so long like this…those are just pictures, not the real thing. He has half a thought of pointing that out, but he knows Poppy will just ignore him.

“Goodnight, DJ, goodnight Guy Diamond,” she then laughs quietly, “goodnight, Creek.”

He thinks it’s finally over, and they can finally sleep. He’s closing his eyes and settles in as she says the last of her weird goodnights.

“Boop!” She says, then, and it, followed by more thunder, has his eyes snapping open.

The wall that greets him is fine. He is fine. Poppy is here, so he can’t show his fear. What if she makes fun of him for such a fear? She always hated it when he brought up the Bergens, or when he warned everyone of poisonous flowers.

It’s oddly quiet. He’d expected her to wish him goodnight as well, and just a small part of him felt a bit left out.

“Branch?”

His ears twitch in her direction, always alert. “Yes?”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, before Poppy is shifting the blankets again. She doesn’t answer him, and he wonders briefly if she had already fallen asleep. Poppy was known to go down hard when it was time for bed.

Another clack of thunder. He just now notices how tightly he’d clutched the blanket to himself. It was a large blanket, enough for maybe four whole trolls to share, if they ever wanted to, so he wasn’t concerned that she might not have a blanket.

His ears swivel, and his eyes are locked on the ceiling. He doesn’t bother turning onto his back. He was ready to deal with this. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

His fingers tremble as another boom from above throws a vibration through the ground. He could practically  _ feel  _ the earth rumbling along.

“This is probably silly, but…” Poppy trails off, sounding unsure. He can tell she had sat herself up from the direction her voice is in, “are you afraid of storms?”

He snaps back to focussing attention on her, turning onto his back and then sitting up.

She sits there, twiddling her thumbs, looking expectant for an answer.

Sadly, she doesn’t receive one, as he looks away.

“You  _ are  _ afraid of storms!” She shouts, like she’d just claimed victory over some imaginary battle.

“So?” He says gruffly, crossing his arms.

“ _ You’re _ afraid of storms?” she then says quietly, as if she needed to repeat that information. Glancing at her, she looked to be surprised.

She’ll probably make fun of him or pick on him for this. He doesn’t feel like it, not while he’s still vulnerable.

“Pretend I didn’t say anything.” he says, turning to flop back on his side, facing away from her, pulling the blanket up past his shoulder tightly.

She stutters and stumbled over her words, sounding panicked, “no, no, no! I - I just...I never expected you to be scared of something like that.”

He snorts, “why, Is it a dumb fear, too?”

He feels guilty at how it sounded coming out, but right now he just wanted to end this conversation and get this night over with. If Poppy tells her friends about this later, whatever. He’s survived worse.

He might end up with Cloud guy knocking at his door, though, if this got out.

“Don’t tell anyone.” He says quietly, and he tried to mentally will her not to. He knows she will, though. Everyone knew Poppy didn’t usually keep secrets.

“It’s not dumb! Who told you that?” Poppy says. She lays back down, scooting to lean against him. He didn’t like the contact, but he allows it for now, just thankful she didn’t start singing about how great the storm was or something.

He shrugs, “no one.”

Well, a few choice trolls, and even the king himself, once . But that’s fine. He didn’t need to be accepted by them or anything. He felt completely fine on his own.

...He did find himself wanting Poppy’s acceptance, though. She treated him like some charity case, most days, so he was still iffy about her. He still....he still wouldn’t mind it if she were his friend, though, despite him always saying otherwise.

“I won’t tell anyone if you talk to me about it.” she offers, patting him on the shoulder lightly.

It was a...good offer. For her, anyway. She could totally milk this out and get something else out of the deal. She could totally ask for his emergency remote controller for a day or something equally terrifying to him.

He wants to think that strings are attached to this offer, but he knew Poppy well enough to know she never went back on a deal. Ever.

“Fine,” he agrees, “I just...don’t like storms.”

He briefly remembers the time after his grandmother had been taken. He remembers that it had stormed the day after, and that he sat alone in their shared pod during all of it, scared and lonely.

He blinks. Hard. He was not going to think about that with Poppy here!

“I…” Poppy begins, quietly, “I never took you for one to be scared of storms.”

“Why?” He asks her, just a bit rudely.

Poppy gestures to the ceiling, which is something he catches from the corner of his eye, “You’re just...you! You’re strong, and brave, and... _ you _ . I just...never took you for being afraid of something like that.”

“Well, I am.” Branch replies, this time softly, thinking over what she’d said about him - Poppy thought he was brave?

“Well…” Poppy starts, and he’s half prepared to shush her if she started singing. Instead, to his surprise, she merely nudges him, “there’s nothing wrong with being afraid of storms.”

“It’s childish.” he replies, his fingers rubbing against the fluffy blanket nervously.

“Being scared isn’t childish.” Poppy reassures him, “Actually! I’m still scared of the dark! That’s why my pod is always lit up.”

Oh. That must also be why most of the troll village was lit up at night after parties. It’s not so much as a dead giveaway when it’s quiet, but Branch always found himself worried about it anyway.

Maybe that was just something he had to leave alone for now. He was fine so long as the trolls stayed quiet.

Which they hardly ever did.

“It’s silly?” He then says, unsure.

“No fear is silly, ya silly!” she says, and by the tone of her voice, he could tell that if he were facing her right then, she’d have booped his nose or something.

Another bout of thunder, this one drawn out, has his ears pulling back.

They lie in silence.

Poppy clears her throat, “I know you said ‘no hugging’, but can I hug you?”

At only a flick of an ear as his answer, she sighs.

“Just for tonight? You’re worrying me.”

Poppy?

_ Worried _ ?

Oh, that’s a new one.

“That’s new.” He says, turning around to face her.

She looks sheepish, “not really - I worry about you a lot!”

At his lack of a response, she frowns. “Please? I promise I won’t sing. Just a hug?”

He stares at her long and hard, trying to find the lie in what little he could see of her in such a dim light.

Sighing loudly when he sees nothing but honesty, he opens his arms.

With a shout of glee, Poppy dives into the hug, squeezing him tightly before moving into something more comforting, head rested under his chin.

“You looked like you needed this.” she tells him.

He doesn’t deny it, slowly and awkwardly wrapping his arms around her, closing his eyes.

Just for tonight, he’ll let himself be comforted, he thinks, trying to convince himself this was okay. 

He knows he shouldn’t indulge in comforts much, with his lifestyle, but...tonight, perhaps he can just...forget about it. Forgot about his worries.

“Thank you.” he whispers into her hair.

“Welcome.” she whispers back, “Goodnight, Branch.”

He feels...okay, for once, he sleepily notes.

The booming thunder above him can’t beat the sunshine held in his arms. 

“Goodnight, Poppy.”


End file.
